


Bet

by greatfloraking



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:22:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25305949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greatfloraking/pseuds/greatfloraking
Summary: Sam looked up, noticing that even with all the light pollution, he could see a fair handful of stars. He rubbed at his chest, absentmindedly wondering why it throbbed. Unfair that he was the one getting heartburn when Dean was the one with terrible eating habits.
Relationships: Gabriel/Sam Winchester, Minor Castiel/Dean Winchester - Relationship
Comments: 9
Kudos: 84





	Bet

Dean chucked a bag of goodies into the car, hitting Sam’s side. 

Sam looked up from where he had been researching on his laptop, shoving the bag over. “Dude.” 

Dean ducked down so Sam could see him through the side window, grinning unrepentantly, a Twizzler hanging from his mouth. “Got you your rabbit food, bitch.”

“Jerk.” Sam muttered on autopilot. 

Sam went rooting around in the bag while Dean got into the car and started the Impala, steering her back onto the shimmering highway. Sam pulled out another bag of Twizzlers, and frowned at them. Dean must’ve noticed his stilled movements, because he did a double-take and pulled a bite off the candy in his mouth, talking with his mouth full.

“Oh, dude. If you picked up a craving for candy you better damn wait. Those are mine and I ain’t driving back for more.”

“No, it’s not that.” Sam muttered, frowning and staring at the bag, something niggling at the back of his mind. When he tried to dive after it, his thoughts scattered and fled to darker depths like teasing fish.

He shook his head as if to clear it and put the bag back, pulling out his salad and got to dressing it.

“Weirdo.” Dean made a gagging face.

Sam threw him a bitch face and took a pointed bite. 

+

Sam liked to take morning runs when he could.

Usually, these runs happened on days of research. If they were in the thick of the hunt the day before, then they would take the next day to flee the immediate area before authorities cottoned onto them. Then they would crash at a rundown, no-name motel of their choosing. Sam couldn’t really run on those days, but whenever they were in-between cases or didn’t have any heavy-duty work to do, he would go on a run.

He did it to keep fit, but also for the alone time. He loved his brother, but also, it was his _brother_ , and sometimes he needed time to be alone with his thoughts. 

Sam liked the pumping of blood through his body, the rush of air into and out of his lungs, the strain in his muscles as they worked. He liked listening to music or podcasts, and he liked smiling at his fellow pedestrians, and he liked watching the sun come up.

He liked watching the sun come up the most. It was something that quieted even the most restless parts in him, something that brought up an awe for the simple things and made him slow to appreciate that there was beauty in nature, beauty that he wished he could see more of.

It reminded him of someone.

+

Castiel dropped by.

“Cas!” Dean crowed, lifting his beer from where he was eating on Sam’s bed (again). “Good to see you man, come join us.”

Sam acknowledged his arrival with a nod. “Cas.”

“Dean, Sam.” Castiel nodded at them in turn. “I don’t want to take up too much of your time-”

“Cas, shut up and sit down,” Dean growled, but any anger he was going for was cancelled out by the way he was grinning goofily at the angel.

Castiel closed his mouth, seemingly taking a moment. Sam ducked his head, trying to hide his smirk at their antics. Eventually Castiel came to a decision, sitting awkwardly at the table opposite Sam. Dean positively beamed at him, and Castiel seemed to relax infinitesimally at the gesture. 

“So what’s the latest with Heaven, Cas?” Sam asked, taking a sip of his beer. 

Castiel tilted his head in consideration. “The usual. Raphael is still sore about being in time-out.”

Sam chuckled as Dean smirked.

“Serves the feathered dick right,” Dean said, miming a toast and taking another sip.

Castiel’s mouth twitched as if he wanted to smile. “Dean, he is my brother.”

“Don’t mean he ain’t an absolute dick. He wanted to kill you, Cas! If not for-” Dean cut himself off and glanced at Sam. “Anyway, you would’ve been toast if we hadn’t stepped in.” 

Castiel also shot a quick look at Sam. Sam raised an eyebrow at them over his beer, and he set it down. 

“Have I got something on my face?” Sam asked.

“No,” Dean said, a little too quickly. Sam’s eyebrows drew together in confusion. 

“Dude. What?”

“What?”

“Why are you being so evasive?”

“Oooh, big word, fancy college boy.”

Sam snorted. “Right. Okay. Whatever. I’m going for a soda. Want anything?”

“Get me some pie!”

“Vending machines don’t have pie, Dean.”

“What are you even good for, man?” 

Sam rolled his eyes, grabbing his wallet and leaving the motel room. The door shut behind him with a quiet _snick_. 

Sam looked up, noticing that even with all the light pollution, he could see a fair handful of stars. He rubbed at his chest, absentmindedly wondering why it throbbed. Unfair that he was the one getting heartburn when Dean was the one with terrible eating habits.

+

Sam found it while he was rifling through his duffle for clothes after a shower. 

It was gold, and delicate, and soft but not. Lying in between the folds of his favourite pair of jeans, it had this fluid strength to it, shining in the morning light like a beacon. 

Sam frowned at it. It didn’t look like any kind of feather he’d ever seen before, but it made that spot inside his cheat throb painfully. 

It made him wary. It made him want to run. There was something about this feather that wasn’t _normal_ , that screamed ‘danger’. 

But Sam could never resist the pull of curiosity.

He reached out hesitantly, and when his fingers brushed the strands, it shocked him, like static. Sam yelped, falling back onto his ass in his towel. 

With a snort-snuffle, Dean woke up on the other bed. He blinked blearily down at Sam. “Dude. What are you doing?”

“I fell.” Sam scowled at him.

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Did you forget how to use your freaky long legs?”

“Shut up.”

“Dumbass.”

Later, when Sam touched the feather, it did little more than mould itself around his fingers like a living thing. It startled him, but it wasn’t painful like last time. That spot inside him sang as if in ode to the feather.

Sam tucked it into the book he was currently reading.

+

“Dude.”

“Yeah?” Sam mumbled, flipping through the local newspaper for a new case.

They were at a diner, eating some kind of lunch even though it was 3pm. When Sam looked up, Dean was looking at him with an uncomfortable expression. 

“You know me, no chick flick moments. But, uh. How- how are you doing?” Dean twirled his fork around in his hand, looking between Sam’s eyes as if searching for something.

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Fine. Why?”

Dean swallowed, looking around them before dropping his fork to his plate and leaning forward on crossed arms like this was a matter of life and death. More so than usual, anyway.

“I just thought… after - you know - you’d be moping a little more than this.”

Sam raised his other eyebrow. “What’s so wrong about enjoying an Apocalypse-free world? Dean, we did good.”

Dean closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose before bringing his hand down, as if cutting the air. “Yeah, no, I know man, but that’s not…”

The more Dean fumbled, the more incredulous Sam felt. What was with him? The Apocalypse was over, they were back to their old gig of ‘saving people, hunting things’, and Dean was under the impression he’d be _moping_ about that? 

Eventually Dean sighed, throwing his hands up in a parody of a surrender. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yes, Dean, I’m fine.” Sam said, eyes wide and serious, wondering if he needed to ask the same question.

“Okay.” Dean nodded, as if trying to reassure himself. “Good.”

Sam watched him for a moment, wary, but eventually went back to his newspaper.

He ignored the throb that resonated through his chest.

+

It all came to head when a hunt went sideways.

Sam was fighting off the three demons that had decided his ass was dinner. He was doing pretty well, considering it was _three demons_. He shoved the first one, digging his angel blade into the second, pulling away from a strike from the third. 

Dean was on the other side of the warehouse, fighting his own mini-horde of demons. The sounds of blades clashing and fists connecting with flesh were interspersed with insults thrown in all directions, most of which came from Dean. 

Sam had been a little distracted making sure Dean was still alive, trying to find an opening to rush over and help his brother, when more demons rushed into the warehouse. 

“You may be Marked, Winchester, but you can still die.” One of the newcomers said, smirking.

Sam would’ve stared in bewilderment if he wasn’t a little busy being attacked. The plus side was the newcomers gave Sam an opening, and he thrust his blade in quick succession into the two remaining demons trying to smash him into a pulp. The hollows of their eyes and mouths flashed, and the bodies dropped to the floor with a _thud_.

Sam looked up at the now-advancing seven demons. He was so screwed. This was how he was going to die. 

“Sammy!” Dean hollered.

“I’m fine, Dean!” Sam called back.

“Oh, but you won’t be.” One of the demons grinned, eyes flicking to black. “I wonder if the Mark makes your blood taste any different?”

“What? What are you even talking about?” Sam asked. 

That seemed to slow the demons down, and they shared a glance with each other. A different one spoke up this time.

“The Archangel Mark? You know, the one on your soul?” The demon sneered.

Sam wrinkled his nose. “Archangel mark? Have you all lost your minds? Why would any archangel-”

Sam cut himself off and paled. _Oh, god. Is it- no, it can’t be. But the demons have no reason to lie._

“You mean- you mean Lucifer left a mark on my soul? I’m tainted?” Sam breathed, shaking.

The demons had stopped moving by now, staring at Sam like he’d grown a second head. One of them turned to the others. 

“I don’t think he knows.” She said.

Sam felt his vision starting to turn red. “What? _What_ don’t I know?”

As one, the demons all turned to him and grinned. One of them licked his lips with clear malice. “Oh, this is just _delicious_. This is too good. You don’t know a damn thing, and that’s how you’re going to die.”

They all started to advance, and all thoughts of marks fled Sam’s mind as he well and truly started to panic. There was no way he could take on seven demons single-handedly, and by the way the demons were all smiling deranged at him, they knew it too. 

Sam steeled himself, coming back to himself and getting into a loose fighting stance. Didn’t matter that there was too many, he still had a fighting chance and he would go down swinging. 

“And that’s about enough playing with your food, don’t you think?” A new voice said.

The demons whirled around and froze at what they saw. Sam was wary to move his eyes from his immediate threat, but slowly, he too turned to look at the newest newcomer. 

He was handsome. That was the first thing that registered in Sam’s mind. And not just because of his features, which were admittedly gorgeous, but because of the way he held himself. It was like he had a relaxed air of confidence bordering on arrogance, and if Sam had a type, that was his concern and his alone. His golden hair was brushed back, and looked unbearably soft to the touch. His eyes seemed to glow with an otherworldly brightness, and reminded Sam, briefly, of the feather he still had in his book back in his bag. He had never seen him before. 

He had never seen him before, so why did his heart hurt so much just looking at him?

The man didn’t look at him, simply surveyed the warehouse like it was his kingdom. All the demons had frozen at his appearance, even the ones fighting Dean. Whether that was a result of their fear or because the stranger had done something, Sam didn’t know. 

And then the golden-eyed man raised his hand, and snapped his fingers. 

All at once, all the demons started seizing in their bodies, crying out and flashing light through eyes and mouths as they perished right before Sam and Dean’s eyes. Their bodies fell to the ground with a chorus of _thuds_. The golden-haired man simply shot them a smirk, eyes on the corpses. Then he snapped again, and the corpses vanished.

“What did you do with the bodies?” Dean asked, rubbing at his face and smearing blood over his forehead.

“Burned them,” the stranger said simply, pulling a sucker out of thin air and sticking it in his mouth. 

Dean shot him a grateful look, “Thanks.” 

“No problemo, kiddo.”

Sam had, up until this point, been holding his blade out as a precaution. He’d started lowering it as he watched Dean and the stranger talk though. Now, he tilted his head to the side, confused. The way they talked seemed familiar, like camaraderie. 

“Dean, who is this? Do you know him?” Sam asked, deciding to follow his brother’s lead and put his angel blade away.

Both Dean and the stranger looked at him like he’d grown multiple heads. The stranger was the first to break.

“Real classy, Samsquatch. And you didn’t even _thank me!_ See if I come swooping in to save your sorry ass next time.” He snapped, crunching on the sucker. 

Sam’s face pinched up in absolute befuddlement. Why was this stranger so tetchy? And calling him weird names? And acting like he _knew_ Sam? 

“Look man, I’m sorry if I offended you in some way.” Sam held out his hands placatingly. “Really though, thank you for saving us.”

Dean narrowed his eyes at Sam, turning to face him squarely. “Sammy. Are you fucking with us right now?”

“What? Dean, what do you mean?” Sam threw him a face.

Dean’s mouth dropped open, and he looked at the golden-haired man. “Dude. I don’t think he knows you.”

“I don’t.” Sam said, testily, starting to feel like he wasn’t in on some kind of big joke.

Sam watched as the stranger’s eyes widened, then narrowed to a piercing stare, cutting into Sam’s very core. Sam shifted uncomfortably as the man stared for way longer than was considered socially acceptable, like he was leafing through the magazine of Sam’s soul. 

“What?” Sam snapped eventually. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I’m scanning you. Shut up a minute.” He replied, monotonous as if all his attention was focused on something else, on _Sam_. It set Sam’s heart racing for reasons he didn’t understand.

Dean shuddered. “TMI, dude.”

“Oh, not like that.” The man paused to roll his eyes. He resumed ‘scanning’, but then stopped with a sharp inhalation, stepping back with something like horror in his eyes. He cursed in what sounded like a variety of different languages. “Oh, Father.”

“What? What is it?” Dean asked in worry.

“He’s been hexed. Powerful, too. How did I not notice this?”

“Hexed? What kind of hex?”

Sam frowned. “I’m right here, guys. And I feel fine.”

“You’re not fine, Sam. You’re missing memories!” Dean shot him an angry look.

Sam shook his head, stomach turning. “I don’t think I am. I remember everything important, or else you would have noticed much sooner than this.”

The stranger snorted. “Right. One, you don’t know what you’ve forgotten, so how could you know what’s important? Maybe you’ve forgotten important details. And two, you don’t know when you were hexed. This could be a more recent thing, or it could have roots months back.”

Sam tilted his head, silently conceding the point. He felt as though his head was swimming with thoughts too bright and too fast to catch and make sense of. He heart was in disarray, and his stomach turned over and over like a washing machine, making him nauseous.

Whoever - _whatever_ \- this person was, he was bad news. That much Sam knew.

“I need to get a deeper read on this hex.” The stranger looked between the brothers. 

“And I need to shower.” Dean said, indicating his gore-splattered clothes.

Sam didn’t say a word. 

+

“Is this really necessary?” Sam sighed in exasperation and no small amount of nerves. 

He was sitting on his bed in their motel of the week, freshly showered. He stared at the stranger as he approached, rolling up his sleeves as he went. Sam didn’t know what to expect and he didn’t like it.

“Yes, Sammy-boy, it is absolutely necessary. I need to determine the length and breadth of this hex so I can get to unravelling it.” 

“What are you going to do to me?” 

The stranger smirked, like he could tell Sam was nervous and was enjoying every bit of it. “Just rummage around in your soul. No biggie.”

Sam gulped, before seeking out Dean’s gaze. “Dean… I don’t know about this…”

“Suck it up man. Don’t you want your memories back?” Dean made an attempt at coaxing.

Sam leaned back as the stranger, who still had yet to introduce himself, stepped ever closer. 

“Not particularly.” Sam muttered.

The hand reaching for him stopped, freezing in its path of imminent destruction. The golden-eyed man had an unreadable look on his face. “You don’t want to remember? Why?”

“Because I don’t,” Sam snapped. “Look, as far as I know, I don’t know you. I don’t owe you anything, least of all an explanation. So just let me be, and we can go our separate ways, okay?”

Something flashed in the stranger’s eyes, something sharp and bright, and before Sam knew it, he was being lugged to his feet by a wrathful being and was held up by his collar like he weighed next to nothing. 

“Listen here, bucko. I literally _just_ saved your life, so you could say that you owe me quite a bit. Or does your life mean so little? I’m helping you out of the goodness of my heart, but don’t for a second think that I won’t walk if you spew more ungrateful bullshit.” His eyes glowed an unnatural gold, lit from within like miniature suns, and Sam swallowed his nerves to focus on the raging inferno that had started in his stomach.

Sam sneered, “Go ahead and leave. See if I care.”

The being in front of him looked seconds from smiting him where he stood, but Dean got a word in edgewise that might’ve saved him.

“Sam, what the hell? You’re being weird, man.” Dean turned to the stranger. “Is it possible the hex is affecting him in other ways?”

The being paused, appraising Sam with a quick look as he put him down. Something clicked behind his eyes and he swore colourfully again. “It’s the hex. It senses I’m a threat and it’s trying to get me to stop seeking it out and unravelling it.”

Dean scrunched his eyebrows together in worry. “But we _can_ get rid of it, right?”

“I’ll need to feel around and examine his soul properly, but once I do that I should be able to unravel it easily enough. He might fight it though.”

Sam backed away. “No way am I trusting you with my soul.”

The being turned to Dean, waving with a hand and saying, “See?”

“Gabriel, he could be losing all his memories for all we know…” Dean said.

 _Gabriel._ That was his name, Sam realised. That was the being’s name. The being that seemed to simultaneously care about him and hate him. The being that made him feel like a nuclear reactor, ready to explode at the slightest touch. Gabriel was the name of this creature that looked too beautiful to behold and felt too dangerous to be around. 

He didn’t know if he felt worse or better for finally being able to put a name to the person. 

One thing he did know though, was that he had to get away from them both. They wanted to change him, to give him back memories he didn’t want. His muscles itched to bolt, but they were blocking the way to the door. 

As they argued, Sam tried to edge around them. Gabriel’s hand shot out, reaching out and grabbing Sam by the shirt.

“And where do you think you’re going, kiddo?” Gabriel said, raising an eyebrow.

Sam felt panic rushing up his throat like nothing he’d ever felt before, and started to struggle free.

Gabriel tackled him to the bed, and Sam started shouting. “No, let me go, asshole! I don’t need your help!”

“Dean, hold him!” Gabriel shouted.

Dean was there then, holding Sam by the legs. Gabriel used one hand to hold Sam’s wrists and pin them above his head. Sam thrashed and bucked, trying to get Gabriel and Dean off him. 

“No, no!” Sam cried out. “Stop! Let go!”

Gabriel grimaced. “Sorry kid, you’ll thank me later.”

And then Gabriel dug a hand into his stomach, his flesh and organs bending around the appendage, and then it went _deeper_ , into his very soul, shining bright white light onto Gabriel. All Sam knew then was pain, and then nothing.

+

_Sam was reclining on a couch. It was the comfiest couch he had ever lied on. It was even long enough for his legs. He loved relaxing in any of Gabriel’s homes for exactly this reason: the best couches._

_And beds, for that matter._

_“Shove over, Sammoose.” Gabriel came over with his latest concoction for Sam and sweets for himself._

_Sam bent his legs at the knee, raising them up so Gabriel could sit. Sam shifted his attention from the TV to the snack Gabriel handed to him. It looked like some kind of custard coloured dessert._

_“What is this?” Sam asked as he sat further up with his legs across Gabriel’s lap, accepting the treat._

_“My famous crème brûlée.” Gabriel smirked, opening a pack of Twizzlers and taking a bite._

_Sam raised an eyebrow, watching him chew. “And you couldn’t have snapped it up for me? Why’d you go the extra mile?”_

_Gabriel shot him an affronted look. “I’ll have you know cooking is a delight. I’m a pro chef in fact.”_

_“And you didn’t just snap up that talent?” Sam asked, half-teasing and half-curious._

_“No way!” Gabriel retorted. “I took the long way around. I’m an eternal being, Sammich. I have to occupy my time somehow. Learning things is a great way to do that.”_

_Sam hesitated on his first bite of the dessert. He knew that Gabriel had had a long life, that he would continue to have a long life. He knew that Gabriel’s attention and time was a precious gift, something that he didn’t deserve. He was the boy with the demon blood, the freak, the monster who couldn’t make up for his mistakes no matter how hard he tried. He had no idea how he’d managed to trick an archangel of all creatures that he deserved to be treated to nice long couches and crème brûlée and soft kisses but he would take it._

_He would take whatever he could get._

_Gabriel noticed his reluctance and raised an eyebrow. “What? It’s not poisoned. Come on, Sammy, tell me what you think!”_

_Sam mentally shrugged and took a bite. He moaned. “Gabe, this is amazing!”_

_Gabriel beamed, and Sam felt his stomach swoop._

_“What did I tell ya?” Gabriel grinned, pointing a thumb to himself. “Pro. Chef.”_

+

_Gabriel took him all over the world, and to all manner of different times. Ancient Rome, Ancient Greece, Peru, Japan, China, India, Israel, Switzerland. The past, the present, the future - it was all ripe for Sam’s picking at a word to Gabriel. They could go anywhere, but Sam’s favourite thing to do was watch the sunrise from Gabriel’s modern mountaintop treehouse in the present._

_It was always quiet but for the chirping of birds in the forest below. The sun would always rise with a gentle determination, spilling her light over the world once again and chasing away the tendrils of night._

_And Gabriel would always be there, standing or sitting next to him, or in front of him, holding his hand or enclosed within Sam’s arms. The light would touch his hair through the floor-to-ceiling windows and make it seem like he had a halo; it would light up his eyes from within like miniature suns._

_And Sam would watch Gabriel more than the sunrise, and he knew both of them would pretend Sam wasn’t._

+

_Gabriel let Sam touch his wings._

_They were alive, almost with a mind of their own. They were the core essence of angels made manifest, and while usually they would burn the eyes out of any human who witnessed their true form, there were a few people on Earth who would be able to see without being blinded. When Sam had asked why he was one of them, Gabriel had gone very quiet, and promised he would explain at a later date._

_Sam thought about it often, itching to know, but he respected Gabriel’s decision and trusted him not to forget or leave him hanging._

_Gabriel’s wings were a gorgeous sunrise gold, blending with warm tones like brown and orange and yellow and white. Sam loved to touch them, because they seemed to love being touched. The feathers would wrap around him, tendrils stretching out to Sam like they were magnetised to him. They had a mind of their own, and whenever they were out, Gabriel was all the more easier to read. Sam knew he would never know the archangel in his entirety - How could he? A being as old as creation? - but he knew that the parts he did know hadn’t been shown to a living creature in eons._

_He knew he was special._

_It made him feel even worse for allowing Gabriel to be saddled with him of all people: the tainted boy, taking advantage of an archangel he had duped._

_“Sam?” Gabriel turned from where he was leaning against Sam’s chest, looking at him with guileless eyes._

_It was then that Sam realised he’d stopped combing through Gabriel’s feathers, and that they were running their tendrils over the skin of his hands in yearning._

_Sam cleared his throat, and when he spoke he was grateful his voice was steady. “It’s nothing.”_

_Sam resumed his ministrations and the feathers ruffled. Gabriel sighed, boneless against him, and Sam wished he could just get his brain to shut up._

+

_It bubbled up in Sam in the worst of times, like acid reflux._

_Sam started shying away when Gabriel reached out to tuck some hair behind his ear, when Gabriel reached out to take to his hand, when Gabriel reached out to place a hand on his arm. Gabriel would shoot him confused and hurt looks, but the more it happened, the less Gabriel did it. Gabriel wore unreadable looks more and more often._

_Sam started talking to Gabriel less and less, like he could hold in all the toxicity that threatened to overwhelm him. Gabriel started getting snappy with all of them. He would pop in, Sam would ignore him, and then Gabriel would rip them all a new one like it was going out of style before vanishing in a flurry of irate wingbeats._

_Sam wouldn’t even look him in the eye, avoiding Gabriel’s gaze like it could see right through him. He didn’t know what Gabriel was really capable of. Who knew, maybe the archangel could read his mind? So Sam took to thinking of research, trivia, popular culture, anything while Gabriel was around and seeking attention._

_And when he was gone, he’d let it all loose. How broken he was for all that he’d done, how horrible he was for getting Gabriel involved and yet holding on. He needed to stop clinging so tightly to someone who could never be his for the right reasons. He’d tricked him. He’d_ tricked an archangel, _and surely he was going to the special hell for that._

_So when he finally came to a decision, he requested an audience with the archangel._

_“Sammykins, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Gabriel asked wryly, hands in his pockets and lollipop in his mouth._

_They were outside Sam and Dean’s motel of the week, and the stars were out. Sam had been watching them, leaning against the Impala, before Gabriel had shown up. They were beautiful tonight. Just like a certain archangel._

_Sam pushed those thoughts out of his head. They would only make doing this that much harder._

_“Gabriel, we need to talk.” Sam started._

_Gabriel raised an eyebrow. “Oh, now he wants to talk. That’s rich. Where have you been when I was talking to you these past few weeks? Taking an extended vacation in idiot land?”_

_“Gabriel,” Sam whispered to the ground. “I’m serious.”_

_Gabriel abruptly sobered up from snarking, going very still. He sighed. “Fine. So talk.”_

_“I think we should break up.”_

_The night was quiet but for the roll of vehicles on the expressway. Sam could hear his breathing in his ears, blood pumping in his veins running too hot. The world slumbered on, and Sam could hear the sound of twin hearts shattering silently._

_Gabriel spoke, very slowly. “Guess the joke’s on me this time.”_

_When Sam looked up, Gabriel was gone._

+

_Sam was in a bar._

_He was alone, Dean long since taken off with Cas. He was sitting at the bar nursing a beer. He wasn’t usually one to get drunk, so that wasn’t what he was doing. If Dean was here he would say Sam was just brooding while the chance to get smashed was literally right in front of him. A complete waste, he would say._

_Sam preferred to call it ‘thinking’._

_“Rough day?” The barkeeper asked, cleaning a glass with a cloth._

_She was on the shorter side, black hair tumbling past her shoulders. Her eyes were bright, a warm sympathetic brown. Sam might’ve thought she was hot if he was in the right mindset for that._

_“Rough month,” Sam grimaced in answer._

_“Yeah? If you like I could lend an ear.”_

_Sam sighed, attempting a grateful smile. He took a moment, trying to work out how to phrase this giant, nebulous thing that he was trying to process. “I appreciate that. I recently … broke it off with my, um, boyfriend. The end of our relationship was inevitable, but I can’t stop thinking about him.”_

_Sam wasn’t sure he could call Gabriel his boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend. Whatever. He always felt like more than that, like something too big and uncontainable to name. But for the purpose of this conversation, he supposed ‘boyfriend’ did quite well._

_“Inevitable, huh?” The barkeeper set her glass down and threw the cloth over her shoulder. “You really felt like it was inevitable?”_

_“Yeah,” Sam murmured. “He was … too good for me. I basically tricked him into dating me. The truth would’ve come out in the end and I had to end it before …”_

_He trailed off, unsure what he was trying to prevent. Was he trying to prevent himself further hurt, selfishly backing away just like he’d roped Gabriel into this? Or was he trying to protect Gabriel? Sam took another sip of his beer, drowning out his thoughts. It didn’t matter. It was over._

_“If you could decide to forget all that, forget you ever even met him … would you?” The girl asked._

_Sam blinked up at her for a moment, before returning his gaze to the foamy beer. “Maybe. Yes. I don’t know. I miss him, but everyday it just gets more and more unbearable. I want to call him and beg him to take me back, but I won’t do that. Instead it’s just this … horrible feeling in my chest and stomach, that never goes away.”_

_“Let me guess. You don’t even want to eat anymore, and sleep is a nightmare, right?” She gave him a sympathetic look._

_Sam just nodded, taking another swallow of his beer._

_“I know something that might fix the problem.” She shot him a smile._

_Sam took a second, but then he set the beer down and waved a hand. “Oh, I’m. I’m flattered, really, but I think-”_

_“No, not like that.” The girl laughed. “More like a seance. Trust me, if anything it’ll be a bit of fun.”_

_“A seance?” He quirked an eyebrow._

_“Oh, don’t tell me you’re a nonbeliever.” Her grin turned cheeky. “I’ll have you know I’ve helped quite a few people.”_

_Sam tilted his head. She was either a fake or he could see what she had to offer. He shrugged. “I’ve got some time to kill.”_

+

Sam came to with a start, eyes shooting open and not registering where he was. He must’ve made a noise, because Gabriel and Dean both looked at him from where they were sitting by his bed and standing at the end of it, respectively. 

“Sammy?” Dean asked.

“I remember.” Sam said wearily. He couldn’t look Gabriel in the eye.

Gabriel snorted, “I’ll bet. So? How’d you let some witch get the jump on you?”

“I didn’t.” Sam said quietly. 

There was silence. 

“Come again?” Gabriel asked, cupping a hand around his ear. 

“I didn’t.” Sam said, louder. “I let her perform a ritual. It worked better than I was expecting, and I wasn’t exactly complaining afterwards.”

“You did what?” Dean shouted. “What the hell is wrong with you, man? Why would you let some random witch perform some wackadoo spell on you?”

“Because I was desperate!” Sam roared, then immediately felt himself flush with the heat of shame. He curled into a ball on the bed, burying his face in his arms and tried to will away the stinging in his eyes. 

“Desperate? What? Sammy?” Dean’s voice came closer, and the concern in his voice was a little too much right now.

Then came a surprise.

Gabriel said, “Dean-o. Can you give us a minute?” 

“Hell no.”

“ _Dean_.” 

There was a moment where Sam was alone with his dizzying brain static, just reliving the last few moments when he had all but given himself away. Sam's stomach sank to his toes, turning over and over. Gabriel would truly hate him, now. Whatever he wanted, it couldn’t spell anything good for the hunter. 

In that pause, _something_ must have passed between Dean and Gabriel, because Sam heard the sound of the motel room’s door slamming shut and the roar of the Impala as she left. 

“Sam. Look at me.” Came the soft, yet firm, voice.

Sam shook his head.

“ _Sam_.” There was a thread of something _other_ in it this time, something that was less of a suggestion and more of a holy command.

Sam was only human.

He raised his head, slowly, staring in front of him at his own forearms. 

“Gabriel,” he croaked, like he’d been screaming himself hoarse. “Whatever you have to say- I’ve already told myself a hundred times over. Please, just go.”

“ _No_. Dad damn it, Sam, will you let me speak for myself?” Gabriel growled, grabbing Sam’s forearm in his cast iron strength hand and spinning him around on the bed.

Sam let out a surprised yelp, and tried breaking free immediately. Gabriel was having none of it, and there was hardly a struggle as he grasped Sam’s face in his hands and held it so he could make eye contact. Sam childishly closed his eyes.

Gabriel huffed something in between a laugh and a groan. “You are incorrigible, Sam. Why did you break up with me?”

“Because I had to,” mumbled Sam, eyes still shut firmly. 

Sam heard Gabriel sigh. “Okay, but _why?_ ”

It was back. The acid reflux was back, and this time Sam was already too raw to have any control over his word vomit. He squeezed his eyes shut even tighter, choking on his words. “Because you’re an archangel, and I’m just me. Because everyone I have ever cared about has died. Because I’m the antichrist, and it’s in my blood to ruin everything. Because… because I tricked you into being with me, and because it was never going to last.”

Sam was more afraid than ever to open his eyes, but when Gabriel’s hands started slipping from his face, Sam started panicking. Was Gabriel about to leave? When Sam opened his eyes, Gabriel was looking at him with a look of unfathomable sadness and something too big and good to name, and Sam could barely look at him because he was so bright.

“You don’t think you deserve to be loved.” Gabriel murmured.

Sam’s heart beat funny in his chest, and his eyes darted to Gabriel’s golden ones. 

“What?” He said breathlessly, heart in his throat. “No! I-”

“Sam.” Gabriel reached out slowly, then cupped his cheek, brushing a thumb back and forth over his cheekbone. It was such a soft touch from a being who could level mountains, who could make stars wink out of existence, who could smite civilisations with barely a thought, and it made Sam’s breath evaporate from his lungs. “You are worthy of love. You haven’t tricked me. I know your flaws, and all your baggage, and you are beautiful and worth it with all of it.”

“But- I’m tainted. Gabriel, I’ve done horrible things and-” Sam struggled to think, but it was like the static in his brain was being beaten back by the brilliance of the sun. It was warming his cheeks, and stinging his eyes.

“So have I. So am I. Trickster, remember? But that’s what free will is all about, and that’s not necessarily a bad thing. Just because you’ve made mistakes, doesn’t mean you’re not worthy of love.” Gabriel smiled, still brushing his thumb across Sam’s cheek. “And just because you’ve made mistakes, doesn’t mean I don’t love you. I’ll be with you as long as you want me.”

Sam’s heart stopped. Had he heard that right? “Gabriel… what?”

Gabriel sighed, shaking his head with a rueful twist to his lips. “And here I was thinking it was obvious all this time, kiddo. We really need to work on our communication skills.”

Sam’s vision blurred, his throat aching. 

“Oh, come on. Really, Sam?” Gabriel said gently, as he brought up his other hand so he could properly brush the tears that were spilling down Sam’s cheeks. “Crybaby.”

“Shut up.” Sam said, watery, as he leaned forward and buried his face in the juncture between Gabriel’s neck and shoulder. Gabriel’s arms came to circle around him, pulling him ever closer, and for the first time in months, Sam was home. 

+

“I can’t believe you thought you _tricked_ me into a relationship.” 

Sam groaned, turning to bury his face in Gabriel’s stomach. “Are you ever gonna let that go?”

They were lying in front of the TV in one Gabriel’s many homes, on a mini vacation from hunting. These were getting more frequent since Sam and Gabriel had gotten back together and strengthened their bond with more open and honest communication. Dean and Cas had also taken advantage of their brothers’ healthier relationship, and were also going steady. 

“But come on. I’m the trickster. Like you could ever trick me into doing anything I didn’t already want.” Gabriel smirked down at his hunter, running his hand through Sam’s hair.

Sam turned his head to meet Gabriel’s eye, raising an eyebrow. “Seriously? Ye of little faith.”

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Sam, I’ve been around for billions of years. I was literally around when Dad created dirt. And you think you can pull a fast one over on me?”

Sam grinned up at him. “Well I guess we’ll have to bet on it, won’t we?”

\+ _Outtake_ +

“By the way... Gabriel?”

“Yeah?”

“Why do I have an archangel mark on my soul?”

“Ah. Well. You see, I might’ve accidentally… claimed you?”

“You did _what_.”

“It just means I can sense when you're in mortal danger and I know where you are at any given point! It's also like... a supernatural ‘taken’ status. Don’t worry about it, Sam-a-lam.”

“I’m gonna kill you.”


End file.
